The Inner Maze - TWENTY-TWO
May 28, 2009. Frank wrote this as an experiment using Aurora Suite 2005, a word-prediction software program. For every letter that Frank would type for each new word, Aurora proposed to him nine possible word choices. For The Inner Maze, Frank ALWAYS selected a word from Aurora’s first nine choices. In this way, he followed Aurora, as Aurora followed him, through The Inner Maze!
TWENTY-TWO
Heartwrenching I got kidnapped between chapters and couldn’t find my way back here for months! I floated mainly hanging on to pictures of Linda and you on your birthday. But I was lost beyond recall and couldn’t convince the people who kidnapped me in high depression to shoot me dead brute truth imprisoned unwilling witnesses dumping on Jehovah’s goons hired by Guillermo Gomez to keep us apart, getting hurt, failing to gather strength, surmounted all obstacles to get back to work with you again in the unconformable zones of so-called holy Narrating the autobiography of jazzy and sweet soft touch. But I am back! They tried to throw cold shoulder on the poor creatures that you bugged me in to introduce to you. Yep, that is why I was lost! Beyond imagination magnified, I got herpes! Maybe even taking part in huge billows of poop holding the leaping mackerel wolf-thorn-tails and sweet young creature, letting her lap-dog pussy lick out bits of debris of jazzy stuff down necklines plunge below robotic affirmative babble of poop. Did you miss my swelling head? Is that true?
Well, imagine what I have been doing! Mudslides usually use boredom to shoot above the immense hollow of hell. Personally I always recycle things. I like your tits and ass. You’re easily the last audience member who is prepared for the overview of so-called neglect of the functions of living true. Well, after all judging by the darkness critics of what should happen, should look like, should be institutionalized dancing, draining environmentally everything, the doors locked up magically and I was trapped in ice separated from you. That’s basically what happened. I was sucked away from us, hanging out like some semi-human amphibious breed of living forms of indigestion to throw a big deal apparently not willing to play chess with us. If you were not waiting for me here, there wouldn’t have been any way of me finding my way back here.
The darkness of pent-up frustration smolders in a week in Oakland. Society forces people to actually collect negroes’ skulls and smash-and-grab the immense body moaning shouting coaxing gesturing long time ago. Time flies some weekday the doors where Glenna was standing at open up. Go explicitly deeper into what is good! That nobody would make sense is limited capacity. When you have a band ready then please call my name!
Hey, you yawning audibly yammer about my body smell and drooling! Are they turn-ons for you? Racists say blacks have a certain body smell. Male sexists talk about tuna odor of their potential aunt of pent-up frustration. Are you saying old cripple people have a certain body smell, a mixture of phosphate age decaying fruit-pulp and twisted spastic of pent-up of living forms of the margins exclude almost entirely extinguished by focusing on going into depth? Do you like my body smell? I like your long-voyage steamers body odor! I fought my whole life for my right to drool! So we can drool together! They have tried to keep me out of college, off of airliners, out of restaurants, and would you believe out of the voting Booth! On registration day after Mom got my wheelchair up two flights of stairs at the junior college, the counselor just looked at my drool and refused to accept me in any Classes! My drooling would distract the other students, don’t you know. And it would bring down aircraft! And whole cafes vomited! They wanted to operate to block my ducts! They wanted to give me drugs to dry me out. But I always figured this is a part of my stuff!
I like when you drool on my body and soul oozy on my cock all juicy sweaty joy. Drool, slobber threatening to bring down established confidential order of sociability and urbanity which HOW THINGS SHOULD BE institutionalize what people MUST hold on compulsion. Abbreviated reality in which everything is clean and airy. But sliding our bodies together lubricated with our drool slobber is like gravity shifting into depth of living together tribally, explore deeply explicitly play with anything fully engage. Play silly sexy! Uplifting freedom in this mysterious association of the things outside of the margins is really needed to expand outside censorship.
Of course when I am performing for hours, I am a shaman sweating like Louis Armstrong! Yep, Satchmo with his horn! Or an old blues guy! I am working here! So I sweat streamed down off male body and into the foam rubber pillows. Magic is heat! It is extremely hot and real like giving birth, conducting the effective channels hard whipping kind of art community. Doing the jugglery of living forms of polyamory in which everything is equally possible and becoming immediately recognized as possible for hours under pressure of atmospheres of skin is molten! This is why I bring several changes of shirts when I perform and work nude! Well, that last thing ain’t true! Smelly life! Smelly love! Smelly working! Shaman uses smells as channels of communication between rubbing erotically bodies together lubricated with all kinds of things! You want smells. But physical smells aren’t politically correct! Insanity! Oh, I do bathe everyday with herbal soaps and shampoos…Bathing in various herbs grown in our garden… Bathing with Linda! Oh, the life! Facial mud packs, and skin creams and lavender mixture, and various home made salves for muscular flexibility. Well, I am a dandy of skin!
So again we are uncovering deep brainwashing into uncontrollably unrealities. We all had brainwashing. Even I still find in me unthinking threads of blood-red brainwashing so obvious that it is extremely disturbing and embarrassing when I think about it. Actually I get embarrassed before I say/write a thread, saving everybody awkward political correct insanity. But they are breeding embarrassment out of us. So we will accept outrageous rude brainwashing as deeply reasonable! Like the person who sent me her piece in which she talks about how I had body odor during my performance isn’t a bimbo! It is staking out distance to separate herself from the other [me], isolating everybody, draining environmentally force away from us. And she just had gotten the imprisoned in general works of solo living as single individuals of the normal acceptable MYSPACE! I always do embarrassing things to pull people in and within, never to distant me from people, drooling them beyond taboos, fear and hurt and doubts. Ducts of outrageous sexy adventures articulating each other’s unique body odor during our maximum opportunity for making magic together, very personal, but not morality individualism pour out sweat of the best shit!
I always use everything to make fashion statements! I wear designer bibs when I work, even though I drool much less for some reason than years ago. But why stop wearing Bright colorful leaves of bibs just because less flowing freely from my mind? Doubtless those drops of desire dripping wet soft gentle down my chest evidently comes from raw life touching with a hard-core kick-ass heart laughing together lubricated everything to make love with me the woman in the bay times just had gotten started randomly in the early hours disappeared under swirling dresses undulating of desire dripping sweet lady. Rubbing erotically, kissing my blues mouth missing teeth! Everything adding to the explicit eroticism of outrageous sexy me! The explicit dirty tasty sex appeal comes from raw accepting of yourself, loving life, loving people. There frankly are not special tricks. Forty years ago I had audience members in their twenties. I was in my twenties then too. Now I still play with people in their twenties! They were born when I was losing my hair! But here it don’t matter! The angle of approach is molten colors in which everything tells you it is not what you have been told. Whatever Shelley thought is not what is required! Besides the reports among various gangland characters on the street hardly were actively involved in the underground. Shelley even left before I leaked out after three hours of holding my piss in. It just streaming out! And I nude! But Shelley left before that. So she didn’t smell that. It wasn’t in the mix of my “unique body smell” that she smelt.
Breathing fresh particles of imprisoned Spirit in. Smell wonder! If we just put up the hot chocolate chips in the universal admiration for bare tits and your friends that only yesterday you deserved to payoff and could act up. So let’s have lots of fun experiments that only the smallest notice of severance on an Ottoman near enough to the awesome secret surprise. But we will crack jokes that promise butterfly resting on your lap, arousing desire dripping wet soft flesh pleasure building, digging horny projections and love with life, reaching up to five hours in live sex! Appeal comes from raw life touching affair around ninety percent of whatever Shelley thought. She was getting thinner all the way into uncontrollably unrealities. We don’t have what they think we should wait for, and never will… And that is why we are free! Uncensored! Unconscious cerebration of goodly dimensions bearing upon examining everything/everybody evidently comes from art to follow the voodoo magic risk push deeper into life, touching, rubbing aroused, smiling ah yes Martha Mulwash in various ways to do whate’er the fuck anyhow! We must fly beyond Beyrouth and never again see nude model who won’t take her clothes off! Shy, you know! Not wanting to be a object… Except for say $100… Then she removes her Spirit from her body, so her modesty can’t be offended because everything is isolated so everything is void of humorous expectancy and meaning. So the empty husk of her body will assume any pose you desire, showing anything you please, moving anywise that you can imagine. But intimacy closeness among equals disturbs her bitch control hidden under pressure bras! Brittle Clay shatter all exploded into trouble sleeping in various log-books of bullshit isolationism because it takes a hard whipping kind of anti-everything human. But she is just a girl of bullshit, so I gave the usual level of gagging response to bullshit and moved on and off to more of sentiment that promised dancing, singing with life! Immortal souls puking up so suddenly that it washed overboard the voodoo decades of erect attitude with the traditional poetaster and love with a hard-core kick-ass heart attack! Inducing dreams slash slashing in various stages of affectionate grouping. Old blues emotional delight perfume is just another look at the extraordinary supernatural beings occasionally without goals or agendas. I don’t have what must be frank! Interesting how people get nude at the performances, typically historically everyday Jane and Joe. Scarcely a nude model!
Rays of sunshine diffused by focusing on rubbing pleasure turn purple velvet cushion lips and shaking hands with him at Baden-Baden. He received a dvd of the margins of affectionate Germanic physiognomy.
from the book, Frankly Speaking: A Collection of Essays, Writings & Rants by Frank Moore, published by Inter-Relations in 2014.